


Just Like Heaven

by thefelinequeen



Category: Reign
Genre: AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-25 23:38:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1666697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefelinequeen/pseuds/thefelinequeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary, Queen of Scots, has accepted her fate as a ruler who will never feel what true love is like. She is set to wed Sebastian, the Dauphin of France. He seems nice enough, but there lacks a spark where one should be. On a horse ride, Mary falls into a ditch and into the 21st century. She must adapt to this new world, one where she no longer holds the privilege and power. She meets Francis, a university boy, who offers to show her what this world can give her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Figured You Out

“It is such a beautiful day out,” Mary whispered to Bash, as the court jesters entertained at their feet. It was the fifth day of celebrations, after Bash had proposed to Mary and set the path for France and Scotland to unite under one Catholic ruling pair. The proposal was soft, but sweet, even if the answer was already known. They had been betrothed since Mary was a little girl, an arrangement created by their parents. Her fate decided for her, Mary accepted it without complaint. After all, she was a ruler and was forced to face the realities of a weakened Scotland at a very young age. She reasoned that Bash was fairly young for a ruler, and he didn’t drink and gamble as much as other men, a promising start in comparison to other royal pairings.

Mary’s eyes wandered around the elaborate decorations placed around the throne room. _This is so boring_ , she thought to herself. _I could be meeting with my mother’s advisors, or having a picnic with Aylee and Lola_... She allowed her mind to wander to better things, understanding that her acceptance of the King’s generosity was part of her duty as a ruler. Even if it meant that some might go hungry elsewhere in the kingdom. Her skirts fanned to the floor and the summer heat offered no respite. Mary’s modesty meant she refused to wear the more revealing outfits that had recently come into fashion, at the expense of her comfort.

“We should sneak off, go riding,” Bash clasped Mary’s hand as he spoke, shifting his position to face her. He was much taller than she, even though Mary stood at five foot eleven inches. His blue eyes pierced her chestnut ones, as he gave a small, sweet smile. As the older royal, Bash had made it his mission to make Mary feel more comfortable with him and the life they were destined to lead together. He just wasn’t sure if he was being convincing enough yet.

A glimmer arose in those chestnut eyes at the mention of riding. It was something they both enjoyed; something that bridged the gap between the two. Despite her presence in French court for some years, Mary never really interacted with Bash. Except for court-sanctioned events and festivities, she spent her time with her ladies, Aylee and Lola, her dog, Stirling, and the countless visitors to the Scottish queen. Until her sixteenth year, she studied with her tutors for hours on end, where she learned she had quite the knack for languages. Bash, on the other hand, was performing all the tasks of a future King. He was able to tour the villages of France, learning how to navigate the perils of royal hood, and gorge himself on the luxuries of the French Crown. Part of Mary had always been envious; despite her queen status, she was not allowed as many privileges as Bash had. A woman was not given the same treatment as a man. Although she knew in her heart that Bash did not make the rules of society, she slightly resented him. If it wasn’t for her gender, there would be no need for Bash to comfort her, as she would have as much knowledge of the ways of royals as he did.

She returned the smile as warmly as she could. Before she could reply, a group of armored men marched into the throne room. Sunlight streamed in through the open windows and bounced off their silver armor. Mary winced at the ferocious brightness as she attempted to stand from her seat. Bash held on to her hand, steadying her, as he faced the soldiers. In unison, the group bowed deeply, their armor clinking as they sunk to the ground.

“Dauphin,” began one of the soldiers. Bash snapped his head high, changing his stance from a timid nineteen year old boy sitting with his fiancee to a prince ready to rule his subjects. His shoulders straightened and he hardened his jaw.

“Yes?” Bash forced his voice to go deeper.

“There’s been some clashes with the English in Calais. Many have died, and I am afraid the French soldiers left cannot hold off the English for much longer. Because your father and the queen are in Paris, it seems that the reins are in your hands.” There was some shuffling within the group of soldiers. It was the smallest gesture, but it echoed in the halls. Clearly, some were discontent with the situation at hand. 

Mary looked expectantly at Bash, trying to gauge his response. She wasn’t fluent in Bash’s body language and she knew that this may be the first test of Bash’s potential at ruling. Three companies of French soldiers had just been dispatched to Scotland as part of the treaty. Both Bash and Mary knew that there weren’t many soldiers left to spare. Calais was almost considered a lost cause, as the English had ruled it for so long.

As Bash tried to quickly contemplate what to do, Mary gripped Bash’s hand harder. He looked down at their intertwined hands and sighed. The relief of someone beside him, no matter how small, was enough to push him into a decision.

“Gather able-bodied men from the nearby villages. Take as many as you need, no more and no less. And fight for your country - your King!” He bellowed, even as his fingers shook in Mary’s hand. Her eyes widened, although she tried to hide her surprise. She hoped her gesture would be enough to hold him up once he refused the men. Bash must have known Calais was a lost cause; certainly his training would have prepared him for this. The men bowed down and quickly retreated back to the stables.

“Bash, what were you thinking?” Mary yelped as soon as the room had cleared. She looked into his eyes, hoping to see some semblance of understanding for what he had done.

“Calais must be France’s again, Mary,” he began to explain.

“No! You are sending those men to their deaths! The English will squash them like bugs!” Mary interrupted.

“If I said no, our future kingdom would look weak,” He tried to reason, his voice taking a gentler tone. “I do not want to be a weak ruler. I want to be strong for France. For Scotland.” His sky-blue eyes pleaded with Mary to understand.

“But those men...with families. Their lives are not disposable!” Mary ran to the window, desperately seeking air. Her corset was tight on her body and the panic of being responsible for men’s deaths was weighing on her lungs.

“Mary, people are always going to die! The English will advance into France and burn villages and kill children once they realize how weak we are!” Bash rushed over to Mary as she gasped out a sob. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked out into the open, grassy fields of the court. The sunshine felt more punishing than before. Bash gave Mary a glance over and realized her distress was not just from his orders.

“Mary, what is wrong?” He soothed, bringing himself closer to her. She snapped back.

“I must...I must go to my rooms at once,” She cried out, stumbling over herself as she retreated back to her rooms.  
   
______________________________________________________________________________

 As Lola unlaced Mary’s corset, Mary let out a sigh of relief. Her rooms, painted a decadent gold, were overkill when combined with the streaming sun from outside. Mary turned to face Lola and grimaced.

“I think these rooms are giving me a headache,” She complained.

“You were the one who insisted on gold,” Lola quipped.

“I wish I was still the girl who came to court on a fairytale,” Mary sat on her bed, stretching out her muscles.

“Don’t we all,” Lola surmised. There was a wistfulness in her tone as she took her place beside the queen. 

“How is Colin?” Mary attempted to act interested, but her mind would not let her go of Bash. She clasped Lola’s hands in her own, acting the part of concerned friend instead of queen.

“Still in Scotland. I am not sure my parents will approve of this match, Mary. Even if their Queen permits it.” Lola bit the inside of her cheek, afraid to say more. “Is something troubling you, Mary?”

“Bash has done something irreversible. He has sent soldiers off to Calais.” Mary rubbed off her red lip stain. The berries used to create the stain tasted bitter on her lips. “Isn’t that dangerous?” Lola replied.

“Of course it is! He’s endangering the soldiers’ lives!”

“But what can you do? He is acting as the leader while King Henry is away with the Queen Diane,” Lola inquired.

Mary looked at the exquisite bed sheets, sent over from Scotland by her uncle when she arrived at French court. A token of his admiration and loyalty to the Scottish queen.

 “I know.” Mary steeled herself for a tough conversation.

 ______________________________________________________________________________

 

“Bash! Listen to my reasoning,” Mary pleaded. She had come to his rooms to talk about her plan to save the French soldiers, which was still uncouth, as they were not yet wed. Mary believed this matter deserved discretion, especially since she was placing herself at the helm of French matters. Since she was not yet a French queen, some would see this as meddling. And Mary, Queen of Scots, did not need any more enemies.

Bash’s coat swished back and forth as he paced around his chambers. Its black colour flitted in the candlelight. He was furious that Mary had gone behind his back. Was this a sign of what was to come?

“I respect you as a Queen, Mary. But this - this is too much. Even for you,” He tried to calm himself, but fear was settling in. The Duke of Guise was an unwelcome person in French court, and despite his relation to Mary, that unwelcome manner would continue. Her invitation must be revoked.

“You must call off your uncle,” He turned to face her, hoping she would change her mind and send word before it was too late.

But the face he met was firm and unwavering.

“No. No, my uncle will arrive with his army and they will march to Calais immediately.”

“His army. Loyal to him. Not France.” Bash enunciated every word, trying to get Mary to understand that the French would not like this development. His father would have his head.

“If they recapture Calais, the French will honor him. Your father would be proud,” Mary said, replying to Bash’s unspoken fear.

Bash grabbed Mary’s hand and placed it on his chest.

“You will be the death of me, Mary. I’m sure of it.”

She tried not to look into his eyes as she felt the beat of his heart against her fingertips. This was too close, too intimate. Especially with his smoldering eyes staring right through her. She knew, perhaps, deep down that she and Sebastian would make a fine couple. But it wasn’t love, and it could never be love. There was no spark. Mary had never experienced such a spark, but she heard of it through poems and Lola, who had already been in love. The most Mary could hope for was a companionate type of love. It was clear to her through Bash’s demeanor that this was not requited.

Mary cleared her throat and retracted her hand. “I am going to change before supper. My uncle will arrive shortly and I’d like to greet him as a distinguished guest.” She tiptoed back to the door, hoping the servants wouldn’t whisper about her impropriety.  
   
______________________________________________________________________________ 

 

Mary stumbled back into her chambers, feeling breathless once again. She couldn’t get Bash’s stare out of her head. He looked at her the way King Henry looked at Diane, his queen. Their love had been written in the stars, and even the tiles of various rooms in the castle. They were lucky; perhaps Bash thought he was as well. Mary closed her eyes, willing herself to list all the qualities Bash possessed. He was kind, he was a good listener, he was attractive...but something was missing. Mary struggled to find a word for it. Eventually, her head began to ache and she collapsed on her bed. She ran a brush through her dark brown hair, allowing her mind to wander aimlessly before she hear a knock on the door.

“Mary?” Asked Aylee as she stepped into the room.

“Over here. I am just getting ready for supper with my uncle.”

Aylee walked over to the wardrobe filled with Mary’s dressier clothes. She picked out a black and gold outfit, embroidered with white flowers. Its neckline was modest, even if the bodice was tightly fitted to mold into the Queen’s figure like a second skin. It was one of Mary’s favourites.

“Thank you, Aylee. Please, feel free to borrow something from my wardrobe for tonight’s festivities. I can only wear one dress anyway!” Mary and Aylee exchanged smiles as Aylee tried to mutter a “thank you.” Aylee was always the shy, humble lady in waiting. Out of all her subjects, Mary always felt a sense of friendship with Aylee, despite the power imbalance. With her mother gone in Scotland, Mary relied on Aylee’s guidance and practicality in this strange land where no one was loyal to her.

“Thank you,” Aylee cautiously walked back to the closet, almost afraid to choose anything that might be too decadent for a lady-in-waiting. She felt Mary’s eyes on her, watching her slow decision-making. Even though Mary was her friend, Aylee never allowed herself to forget that Mary was above her station.

“Go on,” Mary tried to encourage Aylee.

“There’s just so many choices; I could not even fathom where to begin,” Aylee explained, thumbing the silky fabric of a crimson red gown.

“Choose for yourself as you would choose for me.”

Aylee pursed her lips. “Mary, what you wear and what I can wear are two vastly different things.”

Mary rolled her eyes. _It’s just a dress_ , she thought, _I’m not forcing her to act as my regent._

“Perhaps the cornflower blue gown gifted to me by the Queen?” Aylee quickly found the garment in question. She eyed the exquisite craftsmanship and wondered how much it cost to make. She quickly shook her head, forcing her thoughts elsewhere. It was rude of her to contemplate such things, even if they occasionally made her ill thinking about the wealth the royals had in their grasp.

“Wonderful! Now go get changed in your rooms before my uncle arrives so we are not late.” 

Aylee started for the door, hugging the large garment to her frame to keep from tripping on it. 

“And would you mind getting Beth? I think I shall like my hair curled for today’s feast.” Mary said nonchalantly, as she walked to her dressing table and glanced in the mirror. 

 

______________________________________________________________________________ 

Despite his previous promise of loyalty, it seemed the Duke of Guise was anything but once he arrived at French court. As Bash, Mary, and the Duke sat around the large dining table, surrounded by his fellow soldiers and scattered royals, Mary had realized what a mistake she had made. The conversation had fallen upon what type of payment the Duke should expect for his army’s service.

“That is far too high a price to pay for your army,” Bash slammed the utensil onto the table. Sweat formed on his brow, as he furiously tried to keep his tone even. Inside, Bash was panicking, afraid that the army and the Duke of Guise would try another scheme while they were in the castle. His frantic eyes landed on Mary, who seemed extremely calm.

“Uncle, perhaps -”

“Dearie, please let your betrothed and I handle the negotiations,” The Duke interrupted, punctuating his order by slicing a cut of meat in half. He did not look up from his plate . “Excuse me? I am your queen!” Mary exploded. Her raised voice caused every person at the table to turn around towards her.

The Duke pursed his lips, obviously unhappy at his defiant niece.

“Your Majesty, this regards matters between France and I, not Scotland.”

“I am betrothed to the Dauphin of France. I will be the next Queen. Please do not lecture me on who is relevant to this discussion.” Mary’s eyes darkened as she spoke evenly. She stole a glance at Bash, who seemed amused at her outburst. Mary’s belief of her uncle’s loyalty faded, as she realized that the rumors whispered around court were true. Her uncle was a power hungry man, a man who only belonged to himself.

“Sebastian, I assume you will learn how to handle her eventually,” The Duke said with a knowing smile, once again ignoring Mary.

“I beg your pardon!” Mary stood abruptly, throwing her napkin onto the table. The rest of the guests, save for the Duke and Bash, scramble onto their feet to honor their Queen.

Mary looked at Bash again, who made no move to defend her. _Coward_ , she thought, the word dripping with disdain. In her heart, she knew she should say it and wash away any hope of them becoming affectionate towards one another. The logical part of her reasoned that she should not lose one of the few allies she had, even if he wasn’t defending her at this moment.

“Sit. down.” The Duke of Guise clenched his teeth. He took a long sip of his wine, his eyes fixated on Mary as he gulped. 

Mary felt her legs lower before she could even protest. It was the obedience in her; the trained skill of compliance that she had learned partly because of her gender. If Bash was talked to this way, he would be expected to throw his weight around. He would have to prove himself. Mary just had to close her mouth.

The Duke unclenched his jaw, trading it for an easy smile. “Well, then. Now that’s settled...” He turned slightly to Bash, who had lowered his gaze. He was mincing his meat, dipping it into one of the rich sauces. The argument between Mary and the Duke was of no interest to Bash, who had now realized that his headstrong queen would not appreciate being coddled. Feeling the Duke’s gaze upon him, Bash dropped his utensils with a clang.

“Let us get to the actual bargain you came for, Duke.” Mary watched Bash’s blue eyes turn to steel as he spoke. She fidgeted slightly, afraid of what would come next.

“And what, pray tell, would that be?” Her uncle smiled sweetly, although it felt almost sickly, like when Mary stuffed herself with too much honey on a warm spring afternoon. 

“You want to be my advisor.” Bash said with a hiss.

Mary’s head snapped up, suddenly alert. She raised her napkin to her lips, carefully erasing the remnants of the meal, and threw the napkin on the table. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her uncle grinning like a Cheshire cat. He was obviously pleased with Bash's realization.

“This conversation is over,” she said coolly, as she sauntered out of the dining hall.


	2. Signs

_Nothing I do matters to him_ , Mary paced in her bedchamber. The candlelight flickered erratically, as a draft entered the room. It was still cold at night, not quite July. Mary’s eyes had long grown accustomed to the fleeting light sources. She was still quite dizzy from the wine consumed at the feast. Her fingers grappled the edge of the bed post, trying to steady herself.

  


It was clear that Bash was not going to be the partner Mary dreamed of having. She should not have been so surprised; rarely did a King view his wife as an equal, regardless of her station. What kind of man lets his betrothed be talked to in such a manner, especially when that betrothed is a queen in her own right? She scoffed slightly, running her fingers through her now limp waves. Beth was not as skilled with the new curling contraption as the former maid, and it showed.

  


A door opened from behind, but Mary did not raise her head to see who it could be. If it were anyone important, they’d have to be announced.

  


“Mary?”

  


The husky voice startled her and she whipped her head back to face those blue eyes again. Bash stood before her, tall as ever. He seemed like a giant, hovering over her, reaching places she could only dream of.

  


“What do you want?” The words that escape her mouth are caked with cruelty.

  


His brow furrowed as she stared at him, seemingly hardening before his eyes. He took a step forward, but saw that she flinched in his direction.

  


“An apology...” His voice was softer, gentler. The kind you could possibly fall in love with. “I should have said something...should have defended you. You are my betrothed, my future Queen. I must protect you...” A breath hitched in his throat. He swallowed it quickly. “At all costs.”

  


Mary felt herself loosening under the waves of his tone. _I have to be firm_ , she reasoned. _He can charm me easily_. 

  


“I wonder...will this be a pattern? You do nothing and then apologise behind closed doors?” Mary questioned. Bash’s skin prickled at her inflection. He knew Mary to be a headstrong, opinionated young woman, but he did not expect her to be so direct with him. Only his mother had ever done such a thing.

  


“No, it is not a pattern. This was just the first time I encountered this. I had no idea how to act,” Bash closed the distance between them, wrapping his fingers around her chin and raising her gaze up to his. His words seemed dishonest, but his eyes told another story. They glistened in the candlelight and bore into Mary’s soul. She almost went slack at his touch. 

  


“I know you have opinions, Mary, and you desire to have them heard. I _will_ hear them. I may not always agree or do as you say, but I promise to at least listen.” He continued, his index finger tracing the outline of her lips. It was a tender gesture, and Mary fought hard not to recoil from it. Although Bash was earnest, Mary could not let herself fall completely into his spell. Her eyes betrayed her. Immediately, Bash loosened his grasp and straightened.

  
“Bash, I -”

  


“No need. It was frivolous of me to do such a thing. I offer my sincerest condolences.” He interrupted, feeling rejected. He massaged his jaw, as if he had been punched. The pain splintered in his gut; pooling in his center like a hot coal. _I am but an idiot_ , he chastised himself. 

  


Mary looked up at Bash, who was failing to conceal his pain. A pang of regret hit her, especially when he had been nothing but forthcoming about his mistake. A husband who offered to listen was a treasure in this day and age; any other woman would jump for joy at Bash’s offer. _What is holding me back?_ Mary thought, searching inside herself for the answer.

  


The candlelight danced across their faces as they stood in silence.

  


“Bash, I do not reject you completely -”

“Oh, that is a relief.” Bash’s sarcasm crept in. Mary blanched out of hurt, and immediately Bash’s features softened. 

“What I _meant_ , was that we do not know each other that well. My time in French Court has been spent separate from you. I would like to get to know you first, especially before we are wed.” She tried to keep her voice as neutral as possible, but the spark of hope was already apparent on his face.

“So before we start popping out heirs?” Bash’s eyes smiled, begging Mary to take the joke in stride. She managed a small giggle, but the weight of the sentence stuck with her. Heirs...consummation. _The engagement might be long_ , she reasoned. _That does not have to happen until much later_. She was not allowed to witness other royals’ consummations, but she could hazard a guess as to what occurred.

  


“Yes, before we start popping out heirs,” Mary repeated.

“Well, let us start now.”

“You mean popping out heirs?” Mary clamped her hand on her mouth, wishing she had done so sooner. The look on Bash’s face was priceless, a mixture of surprise and hopefulness.

“Tempting offer, but perhaps another time. I meant let us go somewhere private and have a honest conversation.”

“Where could be more private than my bedchamber?” Mary looked at Bash, puzzled. Her embarrassment had faded, but only slightly. Her cheeks were still pink, her hands still clammy. 

Bash gave Mary a knowing smile. “Your bedchamber is perhaps the least private place to speak candidly.” He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “The walls have ears, Mary. Best to remember that.” She stiffened, not expecting his level of intimacy, given the location of their conversation. Another thought dominated her mind however. How did Bash know this and what had these walls already heard from her conversations?

  


______________________________________________________

  


“He was here?” Exclaimed Lola, as she watched two maids work their magic at making Mary’s bed. They smoothed out the edges and fluffed the pillows, working silently as Lola, Aylee, and Mary sat on the couch. Aylee brushed her hair absentmindedly, careful around the knotted areas. It was hard to get baths drawn lately, as France had been experiencing a drought. The girls tried their best to cover up the odors with perfume and oils, but their hair was clearly suffering in the meantime.

  


Mary’s eyes flashed to Lola. “Yes,” she hissed. “Now be quiet, while we have guests.” She nodded her head slightly to the direction of the servants, who were still working. Mary knew that even if they seemed oblivious to the conversation, their ears were always open. She could not risk impropriety, especially since royal engagements were so frail. 

  


The girls remained silent until the maids bowed their heads and left the room. Lola walked to the table holding snacks for the ladies before supper. She chose an apple, red as blood, and cradled it in her hands as she looked at Mary expectantly. 

  


“You look like you are plotting something,” Mary observed.

  


“I am not. I just want to know what he said!” Lola emphasized.

  


“He just wants us to get to know each other.” Mary said simply, pinching her nose with her fingers. Bash’s actions last night offered no real insight into Bash and she found herself overthinking his character.

  


“When will that occur? Will it be in your bed chambers?” Aylee nudged Mary gently, teasing. Her blue eyes glinted as she tried to gauge Mary’s reaction. The three girls were friends, but Aylee always tried to be mindful of how open she could be with Mary. Naturally, she felt freer when it was just Lola and herself. Lately, Aylee had been trying to include Mary in the teasing and possibly inappropriate behavior, especially when she realized that Mary had no one who she could trust at her own station.

  


Mary playfully shoved Aylee, giggling. “Of course not. He wants us...” Mary dropped her gaze to the floor. _The walls have ears_ , she reminded herself. 

  


Lola looked at Mary expectantly. “What is it, Mary?”

  


Mary’s eyes darted around the room, as if she expected ghosts to show themselves in the walls. The bedchamber was large enough to hold plenty of furniture and nooks and crannies. She still did not know if Bash was being literate in his confession.

  


“I shall tell you at a later date.” Mary stood up, smoothing her gown. She did not notice Aylee and Lola’s puzzled faces as she walked out of her bedchamber.

  


Mary traveled down the corridors of the castle, expertly navigating its long, bleak hallways. Her footsteps echoed in the hollow halls, even when she tried her best to be light as air. Her satin dress scratched against the stone floor, but all Mary can hear is the pitter-patter of her heartbeat. When Bash told her where to meet him, she thought it would be adventurous. In this moment, all she felt was panic. Her throat clenched and she urged herself to keep going, even if the fear was constricting her body. 

  


Bash was supposed to ride out first, to avoid suspicion. He instructed her to ensure that the stablehands did not follow her out into the woods. Mary knew it would be difficult to convince the men that a woman could possibly do something on her own, but she kept reminding herself that she was a queen and they were subjects. _They are beneath you, you control your own destiny_ , Mary kept thinking to herself, trying to build her resolve as she neared the exit of the castle. Guards stood watch on either side of the door. Mary could tell they were ready to refuse her exit, but when they realized who she was, they wordlessly opened the door.

  


“Easy enough,” Mary whispered to herself as she walked out into the night. It was still windy, and Mary’s brunette locks whipped behind her as she made her way down the path to the stables. She glanced up at the sky, and smiled at the thousands of stars looking down on her. She did not believe in magic, but it was hard to believe such beauty existed in the world by chance. The moonlight guided her route, leading her safely to the stables.

  


“Your Grace,” said one of the stable boys, as he scrambled from his position in the hay. It was clear to Mary that he had fallen asleep, but she could not blame him. The servants at the castle worked harder than most, especially when the Court was entertaining guests in the summer. Mary gave the blonde boy a regal smile, trying hard to assert her status before she even spoke. 

  


“I require a horse and gear, young lad.” She said evenly, trying to hide the nervousness that tickled her throat. 

  


“Your Grace, I would be glad to accompany -”

“I do not require your services, but thank you.” Mary raised her hand at the blonde figure, signaling him to stop his query. Even though she was a woman, she towered over him. The boy’s eyes frantically darted around, hoping his superior would show up soon. He had no idea how to respond to a defiant queen, but he also knew the rules were that no lady should ride unaccompanied.

  


“I shall wait here while you ready Stargazer.” Mary’s hands trembled, so she clasped them together. She knew she had to be firm and quick, before any more servants came to her aid. She only had enough gumption to fend off one insistent servant.

  


“Your Grace, perhaps another time would be best for you to ride. It is dark and the paths are not lit.” 

  


“I suggest you go prepare my horse, lad. I am fully capable of handling myself.” Mary cocked her head up slightly, demonstrating her station once again through subtle means.

  


The boy looked defeated. He bowed slightly and rushed back to the tack room, leaving Mary to breathe out her tension. She allowed herself a small smile while she absentmindedly brushed off the hay that clung to her red cloak. It was velvet and one of the few things her mother had given her. Her mother was a sore subject for Mary, as the regent had remained in Scotland while Mary grew up in French court. Often Mary wondered if her mother forced the agreement’s terms out of necessity, or something else. It was true that the English hated her and wanted her dead, but Mary felt a longing for Scotland that hollowed her out slowly through the years. Her country, her servants and subjects, were an ocean away. Thinking about the distance made Mary feel even lonelier.

  


The boy returned with Stargazer, a horse gifted to Mary by King Henry himself on her thirteenth birthday. The mare was a beautiful auburn color, and her hair was as black as coal. She and Bash’s stallion, Bullseye, were brother and sister. Stargazer whinnied softly as Mary approached. Her nose grazed Mary’s cloak, as she sniffed carefully.

  


“Sorry, girl, I did not bring anything from the kitchen. I will tomorrow,” Mary promised. She signaled to the boy that she was ready to mount. He rushed forward, guiding Mary onto the saddle. Immediately, Mary straightened up and grabbed the reins.

  


“That will be all, thank you.” Mary said as she motioned for Stargazer to trot forward towards the woods.

  


“Your Grace!” Mary heard behind her, although she did not turn around. She knew he expected her to follow the way to the Kings Road, where she would have some protection. The woods were off-limits. _Except I am a queen, and nothing should be off-limits to queens,_ she said bitterly to herself.

  


Mary thought Stargazer was ready for a canter, so she squeezed her ankles gently against the mare’s belly. Stargazer complied, giving off excited energy. The mare loved exercise and Mary secretly wished she could ride Stargazer more often, but her duties precluded that. At the mention of duties, Mary’s mind wandered to Bash. She was worried that he would not be waiting for her at the creek like he promised. She was also worried about her feelings, or lack thereof towards him.

They reached the edge of the woods quickly and Mary slowed Stargazer down to a trot again. She did not want her horse to trip over any fallen branches and slow them further down from their destination. 

  


“It’s okay, girl.” Mary soothed to Stargazer, who snorted in response. She was also trying to soothe herself, as she wondered what Bash had to tell her in private. Her stomach fluttered at his touch earlier, but the feeling was tainted with possible regret. Mary could tell her heart was open to possibly loving him, but there was no spark. Lola had once told Mary that passion came before love, but Mary wondered if the opposite was possible. She reasoned that it could not be, that passion must always come before love and then it lingers. She loosened her grip on the reins, biting back tears that threatened to fall.

  


The trees blocked out most of the moonlight, which made the woods seem more opaque. The crunch of the soil and branches beneath Stargazer’s hooves were the only sounds Mary could hear. _How odd_ , Mary thought. _Where are all the animals? Surely they are not all sleeping_. She took a deep breath, orienting herself in the direction of the creek. There was no explanation for the stillness of nature. 

  


Suddenly, Stargazer began to breathe heavily. Her chest rose and fell so rapidly, the saddle shook, unsettling Mary. “What is it, girl?” Mary tried to regain her soothing tone, but her stomach began to do flips. Horses had a way of knowing danger before humans did. Stargazer broke out into a gallop, causing Mary’s head to snap back. She screamed, scrambling for the reins. “Stargazer! Stop, please!” She pulled back on the reins as fast as she could, but the horse did not yield. “Please!” Mary begged. She felt herself slipping off the saddle and she pressed her legs tighter to the mare.

  


Stargazer continued on, the sweat on her neck glistening in the moonlight. Mary cursed herself for going off alone and wondered if Bash would ever let her do anything like this again when he found out. His motives were still hard to gauge. Stargazer briskly reared, neighing loudly. Mary, unprepared, released her grasp on the reins and fell to the ground. Her head made a large thump when it came into contact with the earth. The ground was uneven and Mary, knocked unconscious, began tumbling into the nearby ditch. Blood spilled from a wound, matting her hair which she so carefully placed in a braid earlier in the evening. Her red lips parted slightly, and she felt the world go black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I'm making Bash nuanced enough. The way Reign portrays how people treat women is varied, but I'm trying to make Bash sympathetic enough that one understands he is struggling with his love with Mary and what society has taught him to do.


End file.
